


Luster

by mikachan



Series: Sebastian x Ciel Drabbles & One-Shots [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drabbles, M/M, One Shot, Smut, one shots, spillingashes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 22:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10818420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikachan/pseuds/mikachan
Summary: As most things do, his death had a name.





	Luster

Death is not the opposite of life. It comes freely with it, welcoming its cold grasps as a child would it’s first laugh. It is just as innocent, just as surprising. It is not an evil thing. How can it be, when it is so ignorantly unaware of its self? It will come, just as all things do. It will scoop you up when it is time, and place you on a bed of maple leaves and moss.

Ciel Phantomhive was unafraid of death. He would welcome it into his arms, and into his bed. When it would loom over him and whisper, “give in to me,” he would comply. Easily and pliantly, he would submit himself to the pleasure it gave, and to the ambrosial release it flooded him with. But the relief he felt was more than extraordinary. He gave himself away only so that he would not have to feel the unbearable suffocation of owning himself. To belong to his death, would be to relinquish all fashions other than the way he felt his skin quiver beneath it.

As most things do, his death had a name. It was a name he would call out to time and time again, until his voice was raw from shouting, and he swore he could never speak again. it was the same name he whispered in the throes of his fears, his every passion alight with it. It was the name that blurred fantasy and realism, dark and light, beauty and destruction. Most importantly, it was the name that spoke his fate, that willed him to forget, yet never to forgive.

It coaxed its way into him slowly, util he was clutching onto stark white silk, knuckles bruised and wanting to touch, to grasp. His hair would spill over the pillows, cascading over them and into his face, scrunched with pain and with pleasure… streaked in a desire that held the whole world’s luster.

His eyes fluttered closed, and he whispered back to it, breathing into the darkness, “Sebastian.”


End file.
